


Richard?

by ItsJaya



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: 'cause Damian, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Ric pls go back to being Dick, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21614422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsJaya/pseuds/ItsJaya
Summary: Damian hopes Richard will remember everything soon. It's been far too long since he has spoken to his beloved mentor and brother.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, implied Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 98





	Richard?

The world hates Damian, he realizes one early morning, staring at the sunlight bleeding through his curtains. He pushes his covers back lazily and stretches. Lately, even getting up from bed has been difficult. Tiptoeing to his window, the cold weaves itself in and out of his spine till it settles on his tailbone. Watching the sun illuminate his yard, he adds more thoughts to brood over. His crumbling team. Djinn and Crush. Emiko killing. Jon- many aspects have not been in his favor as of late. He touches the freezing window pane as he thinks of Richard Grayson. Nothing should have ever fazed him like this- like seeing Richard stare at him with those cold eyes- with eyes of distaste. With the same eyes he would look at him with so long ago when he was nothing more but Talia’s spawn.

Lately, it’s been bothering him more and more. Maybe it’s the loneliness, he thinks up as he strokes Alfred and snuggles deeper into Titus. No, no. With so many important cases and issues to deal with, he wasn’t lonely at all. There should be no issue, he tells himself. 

“I’ve tried you know,” Barbara tells him one night after she catches him, her grip tight as she turns him to face her. He crinkles his nose up and rips his arm away from her. For some reason, looking into her eyes makes him anxious. She looks hopeless and it makes him want to vomit his pre-patrol snack.

He knows she’s trying hard and he supposes this should be the moment to say something comforting, but instead he sneers a “Try harder.”

Obviously, she’s upset by his response. Her voice is lower when she responds, “You know what? I haven’t seen you try at all. Nope, not once.” She points an accusing finger at him, “You would think you’d at least try to talk with him since you apparently care so much.”

“I do  _ not _ ,” he splutters, backing away from her, “Furthermore, I just don’t want to burden him much.”

“And you want  _ me _ to?” she inquires before shaking her head. “You’re too much, kiddo. I’m not ‘bothering’ him anymore. I can’t.” She pauses, breathing in. Great. If she cries, he’ll definitely throw up. “I can’t, Damian,” she repeats, and his throat tightens up immediately, his stomach sinking. How could she give up on Richard? How? “You try,” she states firmly. 

He doesn’t respond. Can’t bring himself to spit out anything malicious or have the final word in this conversation. She nods slightly before grappling away. Whatever, he tells himself. Whatever whatever whatever. He lets out a frustrated shout. Thinking over her words, he realizes he hasn’t seen Richard since he was released from the hospital. He has tried- he honestly has. He couldn’t even bring himself to approach the street Richard was on. It doesn’t help that Father is of little to no help in this situation. And Jon is gone. And Jason and him aren’t on best terms. And Timothy is Timothy. His team isn’t even a team. And he misses his mother. He misses a form of authority telling him what to do. 

He needs guidance. He needs Richard. 

.

A week after his talk with Barbara, he brings himself to meet Richard. It’s almost sunset time and Richard is sitting by a decent looking woman, his arms around her shoulder as they exchange (what seems to be) sweet words and bright laughs, both smiling bright enough to make Damian feel like turning on his heels and not ever looking back. His brother is happy, he thinks. Happy without them all and their problematic life filled with emotionally lacking people and horrifying situations. 

When the woman finally stands up, flashing a teasing smile and saying something about his brother still owing her quite a bit, Richard gives her a cheeky grin before rolling his head back lazily as she walks away. The slight twitch of his eyebrow tells Damian that he’s been spotted. A while after she leaves, Damian still hasn’t mustered enough courage to approach him. When Richard sits up and turns towards him, his breath hitches and he freezes like a toddler caught in the middle of a mischievous act.

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to spy on others?” and great, his beloved mentor scolding him is just what he needs to treat him as if nothing has happened at all.

“No,” he chokes out, crossing his arms over his chest, “Why don’t you cut the act and come teach me that yourself?”

Richard rolls his eyes and slumps back on the bench. “I get rid of one and another one comes along. After you give up, is the big man himself gonna come try?”

“Maybe,” Damian tries to shrug off the question off for quite frankly, his Father is definitely not going to come try speaking with Richard. He hasn’t been shooed away, he thinks- this must be a good sign, right? Approaching his brother, he makes sure the gravel crunches under his shoes. “You remember anything yet?”

“Nope,” and ugh, he sounds so cheerful not remembering, “You gonna sit?”

“I guess so.” Damian sits as far from his brother as possible. He looks up, trying to calm his breathing and thinking of what to say. There are kids playing soccer in front of them and a middle-aged woman supervising them with what could either be her husband or her son. The sky is a mixture of pink and purple and the sun is firey red. The colors are bleeding into one another and great, his vision is blurring and his throat is scratchy. 

“Why’d you come here, kid?” And that’s a good question. He doesn’t even know what to tell this Richard. He can’t relate to him at all. He can’t rant his heart out and expect words of comfort and solid advice. He can’t even face him. “Did you even tell your dad you were coming?”

He doesn’t care, he wants to blurt out, but that would be a lie, he thinks. Plus, then this Richard would get the wrong idea about Father. “Do you come here often?” he decides to ask after eliminating other possible inquiries.

“Eh, kinda,” this Richard rubs the back of his nape and is that him blushing or is it the sky playing tricks on him? “Bea kinda likes this place.”

“Your girlfriend?”

“If you want to label it, by all means. I’m not sure if she’d agree.” He chuckles and Damian forces a crooked smile. “You got a girl, kiddo?”

“Fool, I’ve got nothing but enemies and allies,” and he observes this Richard’s responses- the way his jaw shifts so slightly and the veins on his arms become slightly more prominent and the fake half-smile that follows. “I’m kidding, you know.” He’s not.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” The sun sets some more and his brother stands up. “I gotta get ready for work. Get home before it gets too dark.”

“Yeah, sure,” Damian responds and Richard gives him one last glance before leaving him. He wants to hold his hand and stop him. He wants to fall on his knees and beg. The kids eventually pack their stuff and leave with their guardians and here Damian is, staring at his hands, the lampost next to him flickering from time to time. 

.

He patrols with his father not too long after. It’s a slow night to his disappointment. Not much to do and his father is not a talker, so breaking the silence, Damin starts with, “I met with him recently.”

“I know,” Batman responds, and of-fuuureaking-course he knows. “How is he?”

“Well, Detective, as you know, he’s doing well,” he tries to say it as mockingly as he can. How come his father didn’t bring it up before? For how long has he known? Is it a tracker? He wore civilian clothes only that day, so how?

“Don’t overthink it, Robin,” and he freezes up slightly, beginning to rub his gloved index finger against the side of his thumb, “Batgirl told me you would.”

“Yeah, well that’s ‘cause she challenged me.” 

“I’m not upset, Robin,” Batman reassures. “I know you miss him.” And Damian’s cheeks heat up quickly and anger rushes through his veins. He does not miss anyone. “I do too.” He supposes his father’s gloved hand now resting on his shoulder is to make him feel better, but it doesn’t help at all. 

.

“The hell happened to you, kid?” Richard greets as Damian slides next to him, exactly a minute after Bea strolled away. “And why are you wearing like, five bloody layers of clothing? It looks ridiculous.”

“I got beaten up ‘cause I was distracted,” he growls, “‘cause of you.” Richard scoffs, before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Oh, and it’s freakin’ cold. I hate this place.”

“Oh yeah, well then why come here? Isn’t this like your what, third or fourth time here since last week?”

“I’m trying to help you remember!” he snaps, before copying Richard and pressing his own gloved fists deeper into his wool pockets. “I don’t think anyone else will. You  _ need _ me.” Richard gives him a look and Damian looks away, feeling smaller than he did before. “Listen, I just-”

“What was I to you?” he interrupts him, and the oh-so-mighty blood son of the great Batman cannot muster an answer immediately. “I mean, to Barbara, I think it was kinda clear. What Dick Grayson was to her. Even with the others, I can kinda guess what Dick was to them. But you,” Richard puffs air out, “You come here looking at me like I’m some-”

“Stop,” Damian finally blurts. “Just don’t act like you can ‘kinda guess’ what you were and are to us.” Silence. Ugh, that sounded so soft and gross. “I mean-”

“No, I get it,” this Richard claims, “It’s just- You wouldn’t be able to understand, kid.” And oh, try me, Damian wants to say. “How old are you anyways? Ten? Eleven?”

“I’m thirteen,” he snarls, “You missed my birthday. And why does my age even matter here?”

“Oh, it was recently?” 

“No, I think you were just busy,” and at that, Richard furrows his eyebrows, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, happy belated birthday?” Richard offers, “What do you do for fun?”

“Stop doing that,” Damian stands up, “Stop making smalltalk and stop treating me like I’m a baby.”

“You’re far from a baby,” his brother responds, gesturing to a three year old running past them into her father’s arms, “I’m just trying to get to know you. I might not be Dick, but maybe I can kinda treat you like he did.”

“Yeah, well, you know me very damn well, Richard.” And nope, this Richard doesn’t know him at all. Damian isn’t lying to anyone but himself. How did his Richard even treat him before? How can he explain it to this Richard? “Listen,” he begins, taking in a deep breath, “just treat me like you would treat any kid you might find annoying left under your care. You don’t want him, but boom, he’s your responsibility.”

“Soo,” Richard stretches the ‘o’ sound and Damian wants to punch him in the face, “I was your babysitter?”

“No,” he snaps, before groaning in frustration. “I haven’t needed a babysitter since I could walk when I was like, a month or so old.” Richard rolls his eyes. “You kinda just replaced my father when he wasn’t around.”

There’s silence, and Damian feels like he said something wrong. The way Richard sat up a bit and even stiffened. He definitely said something wrong. “Kiddo,” his brother starts, “I’m not your dad.” And oh boy, he definitely said something wrong. Before he can even explain himself, Richard continues, “But if you need someone to talk to and I’m around, I’ll listen. I won’t push you away anymore.”

“Why?” Damian asks, and he really needs to know. What makes him different? Why would this Richard push the others away and not him? But he doesn’t respond, just looks away, attention returning to the children enjoying the park in front of them. “I’ll talk so much, you’ll regret it, y’know?”

“We’ll see, kiddo. We’ll see.” And it’s not his Richard, but hey, there’s hope right? 


End file.
